


I'm not tired of us

by Lilium125



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Anal Sex, Incest, M/M, Oral Sex, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rick and Morty - Freeform, Science Fiction, Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:47:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24021571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilium125/pseuds/Lilium125
Summary: He sat down in the armchair that was in the center of the room and pressed his palm on the right side. The fingerprint reader recognized Rick's hand and triggered a small side door, from which the old man pulled out a strange colored memory unit. It was red, but a very dark red, tending to black and a difference of the other vials, which appeared luminescent, this was opaque, as if there was dust inside. Rick looked it with revulsion and although she was small, he seemed to weigh tons in his hand. It was not a label because there was no need, that memory belonged to him and he was as rotten as he was.
Relationships: Rick Sanchez/Morty Smith
Comments: 3
Kudos: 18





	I'm not tired of us

**Author's Note:**

> This is a translation of my "I'm not tired of us" fanfiction.

« Pull over to the gas st-sta _beuurp_ tion, Morty, we need to re-refuel », Rick leaned his forehead against the glass of the spacecraft he himself had built with scraps of scrap found in the garage. He had taught his grandson to drive it, so that he could get drunk in peace without his complaining about any skid or space junk touched. For his part Rick knew how to drive very well even when drunk, in fact, he drove even better, but Morty… he was a deadly boredom, he went very slowly, he was enchanted to look at the empty space that surrounded them, he demanded that Rick wear the seat belt. He didn't even know why he had fitted those fucking seat belts… or maybe they were already on the seats he had dismantled from that old car in disrepair. He didn't remember it, he was drunk when he built it and he wasn't sure where he got all the elements. He belched loudly again.

« But Rick the sp-spacecraft doesn't need fuel, the b-battery… », Morty protested plaintively. How irritated that whining voice was.

« Refueling is for me, l-lil’ shit », Rick chuckled in response, waving his faithful flask without even a drop of alcohol. He was strangely cheerful and relaxed that day. Morty decided to pull over to the service station built on an asteroid, shabby and deserted, with a far from perfect landing and all the empty bottles and cans fell on the ground, when Rick opened the door and slipped staggering down.

« You wait here, I'll be right back », Rick staggered to the dilapidated shop door, hands in pockets looking for money. Morty had no intention of following him in there, he was quite sure that his grandfather would collapse in front of the counter with a bottle of alien alcohol in his hand. He would wait a bit and then join him, or Rick would get nervous and he was dangerous when he was so drunk. In reality the scientist seemed in a good mood, but when he reached certain levels he changed quickly and Morty didn't want to risk it. By now he had learned to manage his grandfather's drunks, at just fourteen he supported the weight of an alcoholic's mood swings, his anger, the violence, but also the weight of the man's body to bring at home. And of all those alternatives he definitely preferred a sleeping Rick to a delusional one.

Yes, he would have definitely waited in the cockpit.

Rick wobbled a bit before sitting down at the counter unattended, called loudly several times, but nobody came to serve him. He grunted in disappointment, getting up and going behind the cash register, where the alchol stood, arranged disorderly on the shelves to get dusty. What a waste. He would have served himself, fuck off, he wouldn't even pay. He snickered, carrying a random bottle to his mouth, without even reading what it was. As far as he knew it could also be poison for cockroaches.

He did not even get the first sip that a shooting pain in his shoulders made him fall to the ground, the bottle shattered, pouring his liquid everywhere. In the hands of the scientist there was only the jagged glass neck, an excellent weapon. He stood up quickly, ready to kill anyone who had been so cowardly as to hit him in the back and instead stopped, breathless. The broken bottle fell from his hand with a thud. Diane? No, it couldn't be, Diane was dead…

« You bastard, do you have the courage to be seen again after what you did to me?! », the woman armed with a broomstick tried to hit him again, this time in the face and Rick just dodged, his eyes fixed on the figure of that young woman with blond, shiny hair. It couldn't have been…

In her fury the girl fell on the glass shards, injuring her palms and knees, her eyes full of tears of anger, she did not stop yelling at him.

« You bastard, go away! Get out! », bleeding, she got up ready to launch a new attack, but Rick stepped back quickly, skilfully stepping over the counter which thus acted as an obstacle between them and quickly took the freezing gun from the lab coat, shot her in the chest and immobilized her like a wonderful ice statue. It couldn't have been her because she was dead and if it didn't, she would have been her age anyway, an old woman in her seventies, maybe still handsome and with eyes shining with love and intelligence… she approached her again, rubbing his eyes. Looking at her better, the similarity was not so great: yes, she had very blond hair and green eyes like her, her face round and graceful, but the similarities ended there. She was wearing a worn-out attendant's dress, which banded her sinuous hips. What the fuck was a girl doing on an alien gas station? How did she get there? She was definitely human, he had no doubts and she seemed to know him and hate him, even if he had never seen her in his life and was sure that however drunk he would remember her. Looking at her almost hurt him and deep down, very deep, he was afraid. He had to leave.

« Move over, w-we have to leave now! », she yelled at him grabbing the steering wheel and leaving, his chest frantically rising and falling. Morty groaned as he raised his head from the seat and rubbed the spot he had hit against the windshield with his hands.

« W-what the hell did you do this time, R-Rick ?! Why can't we… », but the scientist silenced him with a gesture of his hand, as if chasing away an annoying insect.

« You c-can't understand, Morty, okay? Don't ask questions, shut up. SHUT UP! », the boy was about to reply, but Rick's expression made him change his mind. He had never seen him like that, out of breath, shaken, almost frightened and this also frightened Morty: Rick was not afraid of anything. What had happened in there? He cursed himself for not going with him to check.

The journey home was short but absurdly silent by the odd couple's standards. Morty hadn't said a word and Rick had kept his hands glued to the steering so tight that his knuckles had turned white. His fingers ached when he released his grip once parked in the garage. He dragged his grandson forcefully out of the shuttle and then pushed him into the living room without the boy rebelling – which at another time he would have found very strange – and slammed the door behind him. He didn't want to have anyone around. He grabbed a bottle of vodka from the work surface and closed himself in the carrycot, he wanted absolute silence, he wanted absolute solitude. He took a long sip, sitting with his feet on the dashboard. He absolutely had to get that girl out of his head, he probably had mistaken him for someone else and let's face it, he wasn't even vaguely similar to Diane, he wasn't and that's all. He drank again, the vodka burned his throat and made him feel better. _Sh_ _e didn't look like her_ …

With that last thought he closed his eyes and the now empty bottle rolled among the others that filled the spaceship.

Days had passed since that strange stop at the service station, in Morty's eyes grandpa Rick had returned to normal, even if "normal" was not the term that best suited the scientist. He had come back himself, at least, and Morty was happy with it. They were returning home after an afternoon at Blips and Chitz, satisfied and amused, ready to end the day in front of the interdimensional TV, finally falling asleep on the sofa. Morty was looking forward to it. He loved those moments of peace with his grandfather, moments that any teenager could live, moments that should be normal – again that word that was completely alien to him – but which instead proved to be rare, even precious. Lost in his thoughts, the boy crossed the acid green portal that had opened Rick with the portalgun and did not notice that the scientist, however, had not followed him.

« Let's go to the sofa, huh Rick? R-Rick? », he turned to look at the wall of the living room which was completely empty, without a portal. He snorted loudly, murmuring a "cursed drunkard" and throwing himself heavily on the couch, turning on the TV. Surely he had dumped him to go and drink somewhere without him and this made him very angry, but there was nothing he could do about it. He was constantly changing channels without actually watching the programs, still cursing his grandfather in his mind.

« What happened, did he dump you? », Summer's voice brought him back to reality, irritating him even more. He hated his sister's insight.

Morty shrugged and handed the remote control to the redhead, who sat next to him cross-legged, taking advantage of his passivity to monopolize the remote control.

The portal closed immediately after Morty's passage and Rick continued to stare at the point where the guy was gone, satisfied. He had been a good grandfather, he had carried him around, he had made him choose an adventure ahead of schedule - he had expertly sabotaged the card by adding more stamps than necessary - he had not even got drunk too much. He needed time for himself, without Morty between the balls twenty-four hours a day, he was stressed and wanted to indulge in a healthy hangover in peace without the boy shattering his balls. He changed the coordinates of the portalgun, opened a new passage and was finally able to fall into oblivion that only alcohol could give him. He didn't remember much of that evening and he didn't even remember how he ended up between that alien's legs. He only remembered that, just before reaching orgasm, the face of that girl who did not resemble Diane had set in his mind and had exploded, the pleasure he had felt had been so strong as to knock him out, so much so that he had not succeeded to get away as usual, or to shake off the woman who rested her head on his chest, waiting for cuddles. From him. Snuggle by Rick Sanchez. He vomited on the floor before falling asleep totally drunk.

He woke up in his own vomit, alone, it had never happened to him that it was a woman to sneak away after sex. His coat was practically to be thrown away, his pants unbuttoned and the member still outside. His head was bursting, he needed an urgent shower and to get that disgusting and rancid taste out of his mouth. He settled in better and with a new portal he went home. There was no one, better that way, nobody would ask him questions and he shouldn't have lied.

He undressed and slipped under the boiling water, the hot jet that washed away the stench, the vomit, the alcohol, the acid burr that slipped on his chin, but not the face of that girl. It had been branded in his brain despite last night's total blackout. He soaped his hair, face, back. He rubbed his penis and again the now familiar face of the young woman appeared in his mind, imprinted in his eyelids as when looking at the sun. The erection was not long in coming and he had to try hard not to keep touching himself.

« What the fuck… », he hissed between his teeth, closing the water without even rinsing the soap away and putting on his bathrobe, between his legs he was still tense. He went to his room to get clean clothes, more than a room he looked like a closet for brooms, but he had never complained to Beth about it, so rarely did he used it to sleep. He dressed calmly, his mind racing, his thoughts overlapping. He sat on the bed – a cot – and put his elbows on his knees, palms pressed against his eyes. He had no photos of his "old life" before he left the family, but Beth certainly kept some. The noise from the front door distracted him from his tangled thoughts and immediately passed him the desire to go rummaging in his daughter's room.

« Dad? », Beth looked at him from the corridor, her expression worried. Rick took a moment to focus on it after pressing his eyes. He smiled at her, smiling at his daughter was the best strategy to keep her quiet.

« Are you all right at work? », he said, Beth immediately cheered up and gestured to her father to pass him the wet bathrobe that was lying on the ground, while telling him about her day. Rick pretended to listen to her, nodding every now and then, always with a smile. He had implanted an autoresponder tool in the body specifically to entertain unnecessary conversations with the family, while he was totally immersed in his thoughts. As always.

" _I could ask her to see the old photos,_ " he thought, but as the thought was created, he excluded it. He didn't need it and asking Beth for such a thing would have unnecessarily opened old scars, she woukd ask him questions he didn't want and couldn't answer.

On the other hand he knew those questions well, in his daughter's huge eyes he could almost read them one by one every time he was missing for more than a day: _why did you leave me and mom? Where have you been, what have you done, did you think of me? Why did you come back just now? You will never go away from me again, will you?_

Rick was not good at speeches, although he was the most intelligent man in the universe he was almost ignorant - or completely retarded - in human relationships. Rick's mind had practically nothing human and this had pushed him away: the desire to know, to get involved, to experiment, to risk his life, were the first impulses that made him close what was the routine of home , the family, the ties. He wanted to be free and he liked it at first, and how he liked it.

Yet the taste of power, the faculty of being able to shape the universe in his image and likeness, the abilities of a god, were gradually replaced by misanthropy, contempt for everything around him, dissatisfaction with himself. Knowing everything about the universe was not as beautiful as he thought.

Being so intelligent was ruin and virtue. He had convinced himself to return by seeing the other Rick's with his Morty, because he too was comfortable with a human camouflage device. The grandson would be useful, as obtuse as his father, he would have hidden his immense brain waves very well. Because if he was the Rick most Rick of all then Morty must have been the most Morty of all. Or at least so he kept repeating to the boy.

« Dad, are you listening to me? », Beth broke in a louder voice.

« Huh, yes w-w-where is Morty? », this question seemed to hurt the woman, who with a pout very similar to what she had as a child, crossed her arms in annoyance.

« At school. Dad forbid you to go and get him, he can't miss other hours of lessons ».

« Y-you're right, Beth. S-so I'm going to the garage, okay? ».

66789

Rick opened the safe containing his favorite alcohol and grabbed a random whiskey, first filled his flask and then drank directly from the bottle, feeling the pleasant warmth down his throat. He kept the alcohol in a safe not because was precious, but to prevent Beth – who remained dry of wine – from drawing on his supply and rather than remaining without alcohol he would have preferred to die.

He went back to the living room to enjoy some interdimensional TV, but without Morty to comment on the absurd programs and advertisements there was no fun. Beth was busy in the kitchen and soon the boys came home from school. It was there that Rick came to a conclusion. All four had lunch between useless chatter and totally circumstantial questions, he pretended to intervene with a few jokes, a few sentences in an alien language, invented words… in short, it disguised normalcy. He was a master of dissimulation.

« M-morty _beuuuurp_ come on, we have t-to do some stuff », grabbed the boy by the arm and pulled him to the garage, he heard Beth's uncertain protest from the dining room "he must do his homework!", but did not even bother to answer her.

« Let's do an a-adventure, R-Rick? Where do we- ».

« Let's go where you want M-Mo _beuurp_ rty, but f-first we have to… we must go somewhere ok? Want to do a f-favor to grandpa? », they boarded the spacecraft, Morty was overjoyed and fastened his seat belt listing the realities and planets he wanted to visit, stammering more than ever with emotion. If Rick hadn't had a black mood he would have enjoyed that genuine joy that he hardly had or would have ever felt. The boy's smile, however, cracked when he recognized the gas station on the asteroid and could not hide his concern when Rick pulled over.

« Listen to me well Morty, go b-buy a kravien for me o-okay? I can’t _beuurp_ enter a-anymore, you have never been there, t-they don't know you – he loudly pulled up the saliva that dripped on his chin – would you p-please your old man? ».

Morty was looking suspicious now at his grandfather now at the building with the neon lights on and flickering.

« If it's an idiot j-joke… why can't you c-come in anymore? ».

« I had a l-little argument with the owner, just go », he belched again and pushed him vehemently and Morty walked towards the shop with a suspicious expression, turning from time to time towards the spacecraft. He was probably afraid that Rick would abandon him there for fun. Instead, the scientist was looking at the interior of the building with interest, because he had a doubt that had gripped him since that morning. He decided to get out of the cockpit and just to get closer to see better, he took the flask from his breast pocket and took a sip. He could clearly see the yellow shirt of his nephew standing at the cash register, looking around evidently bewildered, then finally the young woman appeared from the back room and unexpectedly felt a grip on her stomach. " _She doesn't look like to her…_ ".

She approached Morty with an insecure step, her very light hair waved on her shoulders as she looked around cautiously, she was facing Morty, but with her eyes she probed the rest of the shop clearly looking for Rick, but the boy did not seem to know her.

He approached her and spoke to her, she shook her head still suspicious, then the young man came out with his head down and his cheeks red and the blonde followed him with his eyes until he met Rick's icy eyes, which had all the confirmations he needed to put together the puzzle he had in his head. Those few moments when their eyes met were enough to understand. He raised his flask in a sort of provocative greeting and smiled sardonically, she turned her back on him, kicking a stool at the bar counter.


End file.
